


Black Spots and Humming

by MissHopesalot



Category: Original Work
Genre: Panic Attacks, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 00:17:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissHopesalot/pseuds/MissHopesalot
Summary: Just A poem about my panic attacks.





	Black Spots and Humming

Black spots and Humming

I feel like I'm being strangled by the  
silence that fills the room.

There's no hard drum solo.  
There no rippling vocals  
Nothing to take me away from the deafening silence, endless thoughts and anxiety that chokes me till I'm in tears then kisses me sweetly as I spiral head first into a panic attack.

My coping mechanism is taken away leaving me nude in front of an audience of judges. Everything I am is stripped away for examination and the process of over thinking them through once more.  
Because a million wasn't enough.

As their words tear into me making me sink lower as the pain behind my eyes and in my throat grows to an unfathomable amount, I sink to the floor wishing it would swallow me whole.

The room suddenly filled with black dots and white noise. Static fills my ears as my breathing grows shallower. There's not enough air.

Clawing at my skin, I can barely feel my nails piercing through, the blood that collects, or the pain I know is there. I just want to feel anything but scared and raw. Bare and vulnerable. Not overloaded with thoughts and judgement and harsh words and panic.

They don't stop. Never giving me a chance to get any air into my lungs. My vision is nothing but black now, and the world turns into this low hum of noise, just as I pass out.

Maybe I did die, or the floor took pity on me and decided to put me out of my misery. Let the darkness it holds, swallow me whole.

No the world isn't that kind to me.

When I awaken there is ach covering me head to toe. My eyes are dry and my head has a anvil on it. The pounding I feel only grows worse as I try to move. My body stinks and feels clammy. Dried on cold sweat never is pleasant.

As I slowly stand up I can feel my legs wanting to give. I have to fight each step I take to my bed.

As I lay down and rest my head on my pillow I close my eyes and hope for the world to stop moving so I can catch up.

Unfortunately the world is not that kind  
So tomorrow I start again.


End file.
